Some people are born to greatness while others have greatness thrust upon them. Neither of those describes me. I'm more of the hermit/crotchety/Pastafarian/mediocre type carbon life form. I keep living my life until I have wealth thrust upon me which will happen when I find that cached pirate’s booty that has been buried in the back forty. (Don’t ask me how, or why, pirates would bury their gold miles from the ocean and in the bush, they just did okay.)

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Cold!

Yup, it is cold. The temperatures around here have been going up and down like Bertha's pants at a picnic. It was sunny yesterday, sunny and warm, so we took the Poop Brigade for a walk in the back forty before going for a longer walk. The shortest brigade member was by and far the whiniest and not really into the extended walk. By the time we made it back to the stroller he was more then ready to get in and crash. The tallest (by a hair) also did not complain too much upon being confined to the relative comfort of that pushing contraption afterwards and spent close to five kilometers occupying herself before beginning to complain. When we returned the temperature dropped quickly and we were finally forced to leave the out-of-doors and return to the passive solar heated abode that lies on Kitpu Estates. The Poop Brigade engaged the sirens, and could be heard kilometers away, as we dragged them into the house. Although their antics are a bit of a pain in the ass when trying to get them into the house I think it bodes well for the day where they can both be trusted to hang around outside on their own. (Fingers crossed...:)

Although the walk was successful today, it was not so much the day before. Five minutes into that walk we ended up with one broken German Shepherd who had to be rushed to after hours emergency. X-rays, painkillers, and an overnight stay = $500.00 in vet bills, and one dog with a torn ACL. Surgery awaits sometime next week, then a minimum of an 8 week recovery period. Sigh. So we spent the day keeping my dog, Houndicus Jumpicus, away from, Houndicus Ouchicus, so they wouldn't try running around and causing even more damage to the broken one.

Speaking of dogs, with that one warm day the local tick population has become active, so we have officially pulled 13 ticks off the dog. Last year the count totaled 342, being only two days into the season she may give that record a run for its money. Frak! I hate ticks. I get all heebie-jeebie about them and the girl comes out in me. The same goes for leaches...ick.

3 comments:

Speaking of walks....took the Odd-son out for a couple the other day while helping his Mom out in London. All tolled, the child (who is not yet two) walked pretty enthusiastically for 4.5 hours..... This kid should be a machine when he grows a bit.... eek.

Things are not good on the dog front, she goes in for her operation on Tuesday, and will have to wear a cast for a few weeks, when that comes off she has to be confined to very limited walking about for 8 weeks, then slowly rehabbed. Will be difficult with the canine type.

Hmm, the kid sounds superhuman, but you may want to speak with the parental unit and tell them that 4.5 hours is wayyyy too long for a little one. They do not have knee caps at that age, and their bones are soft and are prone to bowing with overuse. Also extended time like that is seriously not good for the hips and back of short people. We try to keep the youngest of the poop meister's to two k or shorter.

About Me

Iron Bess isn’t my real name, it is the name I use when I am working undercover for the CIA, M5, and the FSM. Every post in this blog is coded to send my secrets across the ether safely to Cthulu’s minions who will use the information to infiltrate all the governments of the world. You may have seen some of my influences already. Casual Fridays. Inspirational posters on the walls. Four hour budget meetings right after lunch. Employee evaluations. And the pièce de résistance, TV commercials. Diabolical.
In the meantime I hang out at Kitpu Estates pretending to be a hermit while trying to hide my ankle monitor as I await sentencing for that stabby little incident with the waiter who was trying to take my plate before I was done all of my cake. It was a trifling little matter, after all he still has his other hand.